


Play It Again

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam starts playing the guitar again. Gene overhears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play It Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Little_Cello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/gifts).



Surrounded by the music Sam had so loved in his youth, he found himself nostalgic for a hobby he'd reluctantly given up in his late teens when he realised he had to focus on getting into the police force. He retaught himself the guitar from memory, spending some of his precious free time lounging around in his flat, letting his fingers do the work and giving himself a break from thinking about deaths and thefts and guns, if only for a few hours a week.

It took him several months before he was confident and smooth enough to sing along quietly, though he remained conscious of not wanting to disturb the neighbours. Still more time had passed before he loosened up enough to just allow himself to strum away aimlessly, rather than meticulously learning each chord of a particular song. 

One sunny evening, sprawled on the bed with his tummy pleasantly full of the chilli con carne he'd made too much of for one person, he absentmindedly began coming up with the outline of a short and simple tune. Sam was gazing out of the window rather than paying much attention, and maybe that's why he found it so easy to come up with the words which summed up how he felt about his life now, where he'd come from and why he was staying put. Normally he'd write everything down as he went along to remind him, but somehow this one stuck of its own accord. In the days that followed, he'd find himself humming it at the station, or while driving to pick up some groceries, on stakeouts, in queues. 

Sam ever so slowly accepted what and who the song was really about, and once he did he made sure he only sang it in his flat, the safest and kindest way to deal with the situation, putting his devotion into the words when he played.

\---

Despite being a big bloke, Gene could move very quietly when he so wished. He had made creeping along Sam's corridor into an art form by now - Sam wasn't exactly a deep sleeper, and the last thing Gene wanted was to ruin his impressive door-shouldering entrances by warning the DI of his presence with approaching footsteps.

But this morning he became aware that Sam was already awake, because of the faint melody trickling out from his room. He paused, and listened hard, then stepped soft-footed up to the door and carefully put his ear to the wood, holding his breath as he made out that it was unmistakeably Sam's voice singing and not someone on the radio. In all this time, he'd kept it such a secret that he even played. Gene vaguely recognised the tune from a month or so ago when Sam hadn't been able to stop humming it, but he'd not heard the lyrics before. And they...Sam sounded...

It was only a short song. Gene waited until the words stopped coming, heard the creak of bedsprings that meant Sam was getting up, and knocked hard the moment water started running, completely forgetting his intention to break the door down under the weight of his new knowledge.

\---

"Sam?"

He turned the tap off and frowned at Gene's voice. He'd have to shave later, then. Spotting the guitar sitting on the bed on his way to the door, Sam hastily shoved it underneath and pulled the covers down over the side to block it from view.

"Morning, Guv," he muttered half-sarcastically as he opened the door, before he got a good look at Gene's face. He looked pale. Was he ill? That why he had knocked instead of barging his way into the flat like normal? "...Are you alright?" Sam asked hesitantly. His arm had risen halfway to grip Gene's shoulder before he noticed and dropped it again.

Gene stayed silent a few seconds more, and then, quite determined, he said "Play it again."

Sam blinked. His stomach clenched. He tried to pretend he had no idea what Gene meant. "What?"

Gene brushed past him, plonked down on the edge of the bed and slowly fished the instrument out, held it up.

Sam shut the door and shook his head. "How long were you standing out there?" He felt hurt, embarrassed, exposed.

Gene stood up again and placed the guitar in Sam's hands, his expression annoyingly blank. Sam wanted to hit him. "Don't...don't we have somewhere to be? Crime scene?" He'd prefer to be standing over a body right about now. Gene was staring at him so focused, like...like he'd never again look at anything else. It was bloody disconcerting. And now he was expecting Sam to perform? Sam fidgeted. Gene returned to the bed and folded his arms, waiting. 

"It's private." He tried.

"Play it."

"Fine." Sam snapped. But if he was going to do this he'd stare out of the window with his back to Gene and try to pretend he was alone. He walked around the bed, turning the guitar over in his hands. When he got to the window he messed up the opening twice, nerves making his fingers clumsy. But eventually ease born of practice took over, and the knot in his chest loosened, and he sang better than he ever had before.

When he'd finished, Sam turned round rather aggressively, resting the guitar against the wall next to him. "There, I did it." Before he'd managed to get out 'Happy now?', his arse hit the sill. He hadn't noticed Gene come up behind him, and now they were nose-to-nose, Gene pressed against his front. His chin was grabbed. Gene's thumb scraped across stubble before sliding along Sam's lower lip.

Sam smiled. His arm went up around Gene's shoulders, and this time he let it connect.


End file.
